In a dark room
He sits alone
This room is his mind
His mind, his home
In his home he paints pictures
Paints pictures in words
Pencil, pens, and papers
His tools
Colors you'd never imagined
They stay so still on the paper
Like a model striking a pose
Their beautiful
More so then any women I've seen
More then any friend I've been
Or vice versa
Them being me
At least trying
I am the great awkward
Lonely
Senseless
I've been less
Yes
Less then this
Like notes missed
From the ones kissed
Pain unforgettable
Harder then a clenched fist
Thrown from a far
By sturdy wrists
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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